It's An Acquired Taste
by RevSue
Summary: With time, and afternoons with Madeira, the Ghost and Mrs. Muir get to know each other.


_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and I make no money from this work of fiction!_

IT'S AN ACQUIRED TASTE

Carolyn snuggled into her bed, listening to the rain beating down on the windows, the wind howling around the house, and the surf pounding on the shore. It was a good night to be inside, snug and warm. Lying alone in the darkness gave her an illusion of safety. Even as a child, she had loved the dark. Darkness so often guarded unacknowledged fears. Darkness kept watch over and respected private sorrow. In the cool embrace of the dark, she could concentrate on her secret feelings. As she relaxed, Carolyn found her mind regaled with the changes in her life over the last few months since moving to Schooner Bay and Gull Cottage. Although she fought against it, she thought of the Captain, and an aching emptiness tore at her soul when she acknowledged the almost inconceivable notion that she may have fallen in love with him.

The foreign feeling of tears burned at the back of her eyes. She blinked them away, but they came right back until her eyes filled with them and spilled over onto her cheeks. She finally let herself cry. She let all the anguish and fear she had been hiding for years finally come to the surface. She curled into a little ball on the bed and let the tears flow. She cried for all she missed in Philadelphia and for all she would miss were she to leave Schooner Bay now. She cried at forever being torn between two worlds -- the Captain's and her own. How awful it had been when she thought he had gone forever, after she cut down his tree. She simply couldn't bear the thought of losing him again. Yet how could she hope to hold him, chronologically bound as she was to a lifetime still to be lived? The tears came hot and free, until her chest heaved and her head ached. She cried bitterly over everything reasonable and unreasonable, and when she ran out of things to cry about, Carolyn finally fell asleep to live it all again in her dreams.

Meanwhile, the Captain was pacing on the bridge, bracing himself to approach the lovely lady below. Long ago, while he was still living and considered a wonderful match, the Captain had sworn never to marry. Matrimony did not suit his solitary temperament. He had thought once that perhaps he should, but his future father-in-law-to-be had disagreed. Vanessa had been too gentle and too refined to be the wife of a rough seaman, the man had declared. So Daniel Gregg had sailed away from Schooner Bay, and had not returned for a number of years. Though he had been barely forty, by the time the Captain died he had seen and done more than most men twice his age. Years of adventuring in the tropics had taken their toll on him. Yet even now, a hundred years after his accidental death, anyone would have guessed him a former sea captain. The intrepid set of his broad shoulders and his wide stance bespoke years spent on a pitching quarterdeck. His hands looked capable of nimbly lashing a sail or holding a tiller steady in rough seas. His firm jaw and the stern line of his mouth all suggested a resolute, even obdurate, personality. His deep-set eyes, which seemed to search out some distant horizon, were as blue as the depths of Schooner Bay on a bright summer morning. The timbre of his voice was deep and resonant. Such a voice brooked no dissent from a crew or a household.

Since his death, he had haunted Gull Cottage, his bitterness often lashing out at all who dared invade his vessel. Then she had come. Carolyn Muir was the one bright light which had invaded his eternal darkness. He still found it hard to admit to himself that he loved her. He quite possibly had fallen in love that very first day, when he had seen her come to a standstill in front of his portrait and declare him to be a magnificent man. Or perhaps it had happened when she had stood up to him and declared that they couldn't BOTH stay in Gull Cottage. More likely he was still falling in love, because every time she looked at him, aside from the torment she often unwittingly caused his tortured body, there was a rightness. As if two kindred spirits, two soulmates had come together at long last. He argued with himself that she was wrong for him. She was infuriating, entirely too outspoken, unconventional, unpredictable and exceedingly unladylike to his nineteenth century views. She would keep him in constant turmoil for as long as she remained in Gull Cottage.

For as long as he could remember, he had been longing for his lost Vanessa. Vanessa. Sweet, serene, biddable Vanessa. With her, his life would have been ordered, calm, uneventful ... boring. When Vanessa's great-great-grand-daughter had arrived in Gull Cottage, he had had a moment of intense sweetness before realizing the cloying aspect of the young lady. Nay, he had had the right of it from the very first night Carolyn Muir had come to his home. Carolyn was the one for him. How incredibly sad that he had not found her in his lifetime! How incredibly fortunate he had been to find her in hers! His love for Vanessa had been a gentle breeze in his life, but his love for Carolyn was a storm. A wild, seething nor'easter that entered into his very soul and gave him life again. Confound it, what was he to do? He HAD no life! Yet she had him thinking like a mere shadow of the man he used to be!

Soon he found himself hovering, yes, HOVERING outside the closed door to his own cabin! He berated himself for a cowardly fool. He merely wanted to suggest a leisurely afternoon break. What made him hesitate to speak to the slip of a woman inside? Whenever he came within ten feet of her, he had to cover his embarrassment with a mask of frigid reserve. Surely this could not be love! In a few short months, she had worn his patience threadbare. He raised his fist to knock on the door, even as he cursed the necessity. But she had told him once that she expected him to knock, or at the very least to rattle a chain. A chain! The Captain scowled, remembering her impertinence. Then he suddenly caught the sound of a muffled sob from behind the door. Confound women and their tears! In his day, he had fought mercenaries, pirates and headhunters, not to mention nature itself! None of these could put the fear of God into him like a weeping woman! Grinding his teeth, he let his hand drop and he turned away. He would not ask her face to face. No, he would write a note, and leave it in the lamp by her mirror. It would be one of the first things she saw in the morning when she arose.

Coming back with the note, the Captain stealthily materialized just inside the door, reasoning that if he kept his eyes averted, her privacy would not be compromised. He propped the paper in the fixture by her vanity, and prepared to leave without announcing his presence. Suddenly he heard the ragged tenor of her breathing and she stirred. He froze for an instant, wondering when she would see him and screech. No, no, she wouldn't screech. She had too much spunk for that. The moonlight was flooding the room, so he risked a glance at the berth, and frowned. Confound it, she was STILL weeping! How much moisture could such a dainty body hold? And what in blue blazes was causing her tears? Now that he had intruded, he would have to reveal himself to her and inquire as to whether or not he could be of any assistance. Then, looking more closely at the slim figure in the bed, her features lit by the soft glow from the night sky, he realized that she was crying in her sleep. He should leave her alone. He should retreat to the wheelhouse and allow her to vent her feelings in seclusion. However, her muffled cries were so pitiful, so childlike, so blasted endearing! He hesitantly crossed over to stand at the edge of the bed. The covers bunched around her chin, and she huddled beneath them. By the powers, she looked like an angel! A slight frown creased her brow, and her lashes came to inky spikes from the tears that dampened her cheeks.

"Don't leave me alone again..." her words sounded choked and pleading. "Please, come back. I love you so much ..." her voice trailed away.

The Captain stiffened. She must be dreaming of her blasted husband! His lips tightened, and he turned to go, barely heeding her next muttered words, something about a tree. Anxious to escape an awkward situation should she awake while he was standing there, he disappeared. He must have heard wrong. Why would she talk about a blasted tree and CRY? Perhaps she had said sea, or me. No matter. He had delivered his invitation. THAT was the issue at hand.

Carolyn fought her way out of sleep. She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness, then rolled over, trying to escape the oppressive loneliness settling in. Not a hint of the dream she had just had lingered. Just the loneliness. She sighed, remembering her state of mind when she had fallen asleep. Caught between two worlds. In the last few months, she had fallen in love with a man from the past. Someone she should never have met. Someone who wasn't even REAL! She had tried to ignore her feelings, tried to remind herself that she was a twentieth century woman: she had family she loved and a job she enjoyed. Unfortunately, unless she counted the Captain, she didn't have another man in her life who could stop her heart with a smile. Even Robert, much as she had loved him, had never been able to do that. He had tried to control her too much. For a man of the twentieth century, Robert had acted more like Captain Gregg than did Captain Gregg himself! It must be her fate to be attracted to autocratic, overbearing cavemen! Carolyn sighed again, and her eyes drifted shut, lulled to sleep once more by the ceaseless murmur of the waves on the shore.

The next morning, the alarm went off far too soon. Carolyn groped for the button to shut it off, then dragged herself up. Peering into her mirror, she tiredly swiped a lock of hair away from her eyes. Then she caught sight of a paper stuck in the lamp. Plucking it out, she opened it, and caught her breath as she read its contents -- an invitation to spend some time alone with the Captain!

Periodically patting the note from the Captain which she had secreted in her pocket, Carolyn smiled to herself, anticipating the late afternoon. All day she found her thoughts turning again and again to the enigma of Captain Daniel Gregg. He could be such pleasant company one minute, then turn stonily reticent the next. For the sake of a peaceful household, she wanted to make a friend of him. And for the Captain's sake as well. Beneath his show of cool self-sufficiency, she sensed a core of deep loneliness, one that matched her own.

Making sure she had plenty of time to pick up the children and still be home in time to dress for her "date" with the Captain, Carolyn hurried through the seemingly endless grocery shopping. When she got to the school, however, it was to find that she had to drop off some other children as well as Linda Coburn. Hurrying Candy and Jonathan into the house with their grocery bags, Carolyn almost groaned as her bag spilled out over the counter. She snatched at some soup cans as did Martha. Glancing at the clock, she hurriedly made her excuses, and ran upstairs to her room. Kicking off her shoes, she grabbed at two dresses, trying to decide which would look better. Oh, why hadn't she made up her mind earlier? A final glance at the clock, and Carolyn gave up. She was already late, and she had a feeling that Captain Gregg would not be pleased. Giving her hair a few quick strokes with the brush, she hurried up the stairs.

Bursting into the attic, she smiled and tried to catch her breath. "Good afternoon, Captain." Then she saw the Captain's frown and quickly added, "I'm sorry if I'm late ..."

"The invitation was for four o'clock, Madam. It is now almost seven minutes past the hour." How could she be so informal, so casual about the lateness of the hour? Why, she had not even attempted to dress for the occasion! He had thought perhaps she was not going to accept his invitation. He insisted on punctuality while on board his ship, and invariably tardiness raised his ire. He eyed her briefly, noting her breathlessness and her lack of shoes. Obviously she had hurried to get here. But why had she left it so late? Had his invitation meant more to her, surely she would have been ready long before this!

Carolyn stared at him. Why was he so worried about a few minutes? She was here now, wasn't she?

He passed her a glass, his eyes still steely. Not a smile crossed his face as he raised the glass and muttered, "Your health." Her lips tightened in annoyance, and she remained immobile. He looked over at her, then held out the glass to lightly touch hers. For all that he was angered by her behaviour, she was still the most beautiful woman he had seen for decades.

Carolyn raised her own glass to his, then defiantly took a large gulp. She had never tried Madeira before. It burned as it went down her throat, and she almost gagged at the sensation. Involuntary tears came to her eyes, and for one awful moment, she thought she was going to have to spit out the mouthful. At the horrified look springing into his eyes, Carolyn wanted to laugh. Or she would have, had she not been so occupied trying to cope with the liquid she had partially swallowed. She turned away quickly, covering the choking sound with a bit of a cough. The Captain's Madeira was certainly a potent drink! How could he stand drinking it without something to eat to make it more palatable? She concentrated hard on keeping the mouthful down. Somehow she had the feeling the Captain would never forgive her were she to become sick now!

She coughed again, and the Captain was beside her, taking the glass from her shaking hand. "Are you all right, Madam?" Now his voice was full of concern.

Carolyn nodded, but coughed yet again. She wiped at her streaming eyes, and wished she could de-materialize as easily as the Captain could, or even sink through the floor.

The Captain solicitously ushered her over to the loveseat by the window, and as she curled up in the corner, he handed her back the glass. All his annoyance with her lateness seemed to have evaporated. Now his voice was gentle as he sipped from his glass and said, "A glass of wine at sunset -- a gracious farewell to the passing day."

Carolyn took a cautious sip of her own, just enough to trickle gently down her throat. Ah, much better! "I'll be very happy to see this one pass!" she murmured wryly.

He paid her a couple of graceful compliments, and Carolyn relaxed happily. When he said he was pleased she had accepted his invitation, she assured him that she was only too pleased that he had extended it.

It seemed only a few minutes later that they were interrupted by a frantic call from Candy. Carolyn handed her almost-full glass back to the Captain with an apologetic smile, and vanished downstairs. She briefly wondered if the Captain was going to give up on her, but it seemed he was willing to give her a second chance, for he appeared to her in the kitchen after the laundry room had been cleaned up.

At the end of their brief conversation, the Captain hesitated only a moment, then said, "Next Tuesday at four?"

Carolyn accepted, but attempted to warn him that she might be late. His visage hardened. "Next Tuesday at four!" came the stern admonishment, and he vanished. Carolyn felt frustration bubble up along with the anticipation. Why could he not understand that her life was not her own? She had so many responsibilities. The real world was obviously not as serene and calm as it had been in his day. She made a face, then turned to continue putting the groceries away.

The next day, Carolyn felt the need of some exercise, and she invited the Captain to walk down to the ocean with her. As they sauntered down the beach, she noted once again that he walked with the gait of a man accustomed to the rolling deck of a ship. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her jeans to warm her chilled fingers.

"Tell me," the Captain said, suddenly. "Why do you so often seem to go out of your way to play down your looks? You are an enchanting woman, yet you will often wear trousers, dressing with an obvious effort to conceal your femininity." Then his eyes swept over her trim figure in the tight-fitting jeans, and he revised his words. "On the other hand, SOME trousers, such as the ones you have on at this very moment, do nothing to conceal at all! I should think you would be ashamed to be seen in public! Do you have any idea how much you could attract the wrong sort of man?"

Stifling the urge to be more argumentative, Carolyn replied stiffly, "I dress for comfort, not to pander to the roving male eye. Captain, we are alone on a private beach. I'm not trying to attract ANY man! I had never realized before that nineteenth-century men could be such prudes! And what business is it of yours, anyway?"

"Oh, it is my business." he assured her, his voice hardening. "I am the master of this vessel. While you live on MY ship, I must keep my eye on you. And I certainly do not appreciate you calling me a prude or saying that I have a roving eye!"

Carolyn gaped at him, unable to say anything when faced with such gall.

"Furthermore," he continued, "I have never understood why a woman would try to emulate a man. I simply cannot abide seeing ladies in trousers. A female should look like a female, pure and simple."

"Robert never objected to the way I dressed." Carolyn said, rather peevishly. "What I wear is strictly my own business! No one has ever told me how to dress!"

"Then it is high time someone did!" she was told firmly.

Their eyes locked in a long, stormy battle. Finally, between her clenched teeth, Carolyn said, "Captain Gregg, I have had enough of belonging to one man, being OWNED by him, to last me a lifetime!"

His eyebrows raised. "Ah, is that so? I sense quite a story behind that remark."

Carolyn looked away. She was not ready to confide in him about her marriage. Not yet. The hurt was still there.

"My dear, you know you may tell me anything." his voice was husky with invitation.

Carolyn felt almost irresistibly drawn to him. Yet every rational cell in her brain screamed, 'NO! He is too dangerous! He will pull you into his sensual force field!' Intellectually, Carolyn knew she must resist the Captain's charm, but emotionally she had been empty for too long ... starved of all sexual feeling. Surely she could have a moment's indulgence, just long enough to discover the mystery that was Captain Daniel Gregg!

No. They were heading into turbulent waters. Carolyn had to make the attempt to back away. She began to babble. "Listen ... don't you find the sound of the waves gentle and soothing? Even when it's too dark to see the water, the ocean always lulls, yet still challenges you to go on."

"Pure escapism." he scoffed. "What are you running away from? Me, or men in general?

"I'm not running, Captain," she stopped and stared straight at him. "Some day, when I am ready, I would be honoured to talk with you about my marriage, my life, and listen to you talk about yours. I just ..."

"I understand, Mrs. Muir. And perhaps I was a little precipitous in our ... relationship ..."

Carolyn knew it was too soon. She also knew that nothing could ever come of a relationship between them other than a wonderful friendship, but she was so attracted to him! Knowing he was a spirit, not a living man, didn't help quench her desire for him. Sighing inwardly, Carolyn smelled the sea in the wind, and felt it sting her skin with needle-light sprays every time the waves crashed onto the shore. She glanced surreptitiously at the Captain who now was striding moodily by her side. If she could touch his hair, she was sure it would be stiff from the salty wind, just the way hers was. His mouth would taste of it, she was convinced. Oh, she wanted to kiss him! Her breath felt trapped in her chest. 'Snap out of it, Carolyn Muir!' she admonished herself sternly. 'Remember who, or rather WHAT he is. What he WAS.' Confused and more than a little frightened by acknowledging her growing feelings, Carolyn bent down and picked up a stick, tossing it for Scruffy to race after. "I should turn back. The children will be home shortly."

"Will you still come to the wheelhouse next Tuesday at four?" the words sounded as if they had been dragged out of him against his will.

"I will." she said, softly.

He nodded, then vanished.

After the second "date" in the attic ended in disaster even before it began, Carolyn became convinced that it would not be possible to become better acquainted with the Captain in her lifetime. He seemed unable to accept or understand that her life was more complex than the lives of ladies in his day. Frustrated, she muttered to Martha and herself about arbitrary, arrogant, unreasonable, insufferable men, tyrannical sea captains, and mariners who had it made. Life in the nineteenth century may have been wonderfully romantic, but that was definitely the dark ages! Defiantly, she told the Captain that when he confronted her. His "experiment", as he called it, had flopped miserably!

Only a day or two later, the Captain had the nerve to try again, leaving the second written invitation in the lamp by her door, once more formally inviting her to the wheelhouse for a "leisurely glass of Madeira". Carolyn wondered for a moment what he would say if she told him exactly what she thought of his Madeira and his persistence in trying to set her life against the past. Then she crumpled up the note and tossed it away, not even thrilling to seeing her full name written in his flowing script. She was finished with romanticizing about him! She would be practical and logical and live her life fully on her own.

Yet that afternoon, with only a few minutes to spare before his deadline, Carolyn discovered that he had indeed been making the effort to understand her world. Touched by the fact that he had not said anything to her, yet had gallantly forged ahead with such menial household tasks as would normally have been abhorrent to him, Carolyn hurriedly gave the children orders to do their homework, and she flew up the stairs to ready herself for her time with the Captain. If he could make such concessions, so could she. Feverishly she changed into a long gown, did her hair up in an old fashioned bun, put on her grandmother's earrings, and gave her reflection a satisfied look before heading up the stairs to the attic. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before pushing open the door and walking in to the room where the Captain was waiting.

The look of admiration that sprang into his eyes at his first sight of her more than made up for the frustration, pain and confusion of the last few weeks. She accepted his compliments and the Madeira graciously. This time, when she sipped the Madeira, it slid down her throat smoothly. Carolyn no longer felt gauche and out of place in his world, surrounded by things of the past. They moved over to settle on the loveseat, and the Captain began to talk about his life at sea.

"Once, as a lad of eighteen, I took part in an expedition against a pirate admiral. A bad storm hit us a few days out, demolishing the fleet. My ship was blown far off course, and finally wrecked. I, alone of all the crew, washed ashore on a small island." He went on to tell Carolyn how the island people had made him welcome, much to his surprise. He was made an honorary member of their tribe. It wasn't for some time that he discovered the natives were cannibals! Fortunately, the young American seaman became so popular that the headman finally presented him with a valuable gift. Twin wives.

This unexpected revelation caused Carolyn to chuckle. "I thought you said you had never been married ... but now I find you had TWO wives, and both at once!"

The Captain pretended to be affronted. "It was a sacred custom there. The two were lovely little things, but I never could tell who was who. I called them 'the little birds' because they responded to my every word or action with a chorus of twittering laughter." He looked closely at Carolyn. "You may save your blushes, my dear. My interactions with the young ladies were quite honourable, I assure you. I was far too young to cope with polygamy! Truth to tell, I was afraid that any romantic overtures on my part would be greeted by more giggling. There is no sound on earth so calculated to extinguish a young man's ardour!"

"Any man, young OR old, I expect," Carolyn tried to stifle her own giggles. She was sure that most men in the Captain's situation would have taken full advantage of the two, but he seemed to possess a singular degree of honour where women were concerned. Was he perhaps impervious to all women's charms? But no, he had been betrothed to Vanessa. Carolyn had not forgotten that. She took another quick sip. Madeira seemed to be like sherry. Taken in small sips, it was possible to grow accustomed to the taste ... even to enjoy it!

The Captain continued to tell her tales from his years in the South Seas. She heard of his finding a sunken treasure galleon and buying his first ship with his windfall. He spoke of how seasick had been the poor stowaway chronicled in his story 'Maiden Voyage'. "I had taken some beads from the wrist of a pirate, Fat Felippe. They were reputed to stop the wearer from feeling ill effects upon the ocean. I pressed them on the poor girl, and she was ever so grateful. When we reached Dover, her fiance handed them back to me, informing me that she would not need them ever again, as he planned to keep her by his side on dry land for the rest of her life."

Carolyn laughed delightedly at the story. "You don't really believe a string of beads has such power, do you, Captain?"

"I have the beads right here, my dear. You shall be able to test them for yourself."

"But I have never been seasick in my life. I love boating."

His glance was admiring, albeit a little skeptical, but he said nothing.

"And if I WERE ever seasick, I think I would rather trust in the druggist's remedies now. I don't believe in magic beads." Carolyn concluded.

"In all of creation, all things are possible and all things exist. It is only in the human plane that limits are experienced." he said. "Aye, I dealt with pirates and cannibals and honest seamen, and sailed the world over, and limits are pushed in creation far more than in humanity. I was invited to participate in ceremonies with witch doctors and faith healers. Another time ..."

As she listened, fascinated by the account of his life on the sea, Carolyn couldn't help but be impressed. Why, the Captain had lived more adventures than Carolyn had read in any book! The Captain may not be gregarious, and certainly did not display an easy affability at all times, but in the quiet times spent with him on occasion, and especially here today in the attic, she began to treasure his ultimate compliment of lowering his reserve and inviting her inside. He had obviously taken her words to heart.

She smiled up at him. He almost wished she wouldn't smile, for it made her so beautiful that he ached to see her. She could always find a smile for him, it seemed. Suddenly the image of her crying in her sleep came back to him, and he heard her words echoing clearly in his mind. "Don't leave me alone again... Please, come back. I love you so much ... I'm sorry about your tree ..." THAT is what she had said. She had not been dreaming about her late husband at all! Rather, she had been talking about loving HIM! Overcome with emotions he dare not display yet, the Captain got up and rummaged through some papers on his desk, tossing one to her. "This is something I received while on a voyage. I know there were some other letters from our vicar, but I'm not too sure where they are right now."

Carolyn looked at the paper in her hands. "Only those who see the invisible can do the impossible." Reading these words, Carolyn caught her breath. How true that was! She, as a writer, saw the invisible -- after all, she could see Captain Gregg -- and she had done the impossible -- she had begun to fall in love with him. She closed her eyes for a moment in dismay.

"What is it, Mrs. Muir?" he looked over at her, inquiringly.

"N-nothing." Nothing, but everything to her. The more she got to know him, the more she loved him, and the more torn she felt.

"At sea, time can hang very heavy on one's hands. A ship's berth is hardly the place for an extensive library. However, I came to appreciate the breadth of fine literature contained between the covers of many a volume ... words to give voice to a man's deepest passion, fear or woe," His last word trailed off in a sigh. She wondered if he were thinking again of Vanessa, and struggled to suppress her jealousy. "I tended to collect sayings that made me think," he added. "And put them in my private journal. That way I had them to ponder whenever I wished."

"Captain, I don't know what to say. I truly had no idea... Some day, with your permission, I would like to attempt a book of your Memoirs. I don't think I'm ready to do it justice yet, but someday I might be able to try. May I?"

"My dear, you may do anything you wish, short of destroying Gull Cottage. For you, I will do whatever lies within my power. Have I not shown you this with my actions?"

Carolyn looked down for a moment at the ruby red liquid in her glass, then slowly raised her eyes to his. It was true, she realized. Now she was convinced that he loved her in ways she had never dreamed, could take her places she had never been. Like the Madeira, which was an acquired taste, she had grown ever closer to him, a little bit at a time. She was slowly appreciating more about his views and outlook on life and allowing him to understand more about her. In spite of the seeming impossibility of a relationship between them, they shared a love that was becoming strong enough to stand up to all storms. She could say nothing, but her eyes spoke volumes. There, in the attic, staring into each other's eyes, they loved with their minds, their hearts, and their souls. In that moment, they were lovers beyond time, forever.


End file.
